


society

by jeremell (orphan_account)



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Light Angst, M/M, Pining, Pre-Relationship, Pre-Squip
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-02
Updated: 2017-12-02
Packaged: 2019-02-09 13:17:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12888696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/jeremell
Summary: “Oh come on Michael, you’ve taken like three hits already!""My joint, my rules, buddy."-In which Jeremy is high and a little in love.





	society

**Author's Note:**

> i was supposed to upload this earlier oops
> 
> it's still december 1st in my timezone though so : -)

“Oh come on Michael, you’ve taken like three hits already,” Jeremy whines, making grabby hands at the joint dangling in Michael’s fingers. He’s desperate for any sort of high right now, what with Rich making it his life’s mission to torment him today and Jake materializing out of nowhere just to laugh at his misfortune every time. He lost a half-written letter to Michael to the toilet actually, courtesy of Rich, and while he’s grateful for the act now because of some _compromising_ declarations in that letter, he was rather pissed off earlier because that had taken more than an hour to compose.

“My joint, my rules, buddy,” Michael says coolly, exhaling smoke right in Jeremy’s face. He coughs, eyes stinging a little as Michael lets loose one of his full-belly laughs that Jeremy really only hears when the aforementioned boy is high. It does something funny to his stomach, and maybe his heart too judging by the way it was beating a bit too fast.

One hour and four deaths on Apocalypse of the Damned later, Jeremy finally gets to finish off the joint Michael had been hoarding and his body has significantly relaxed. He’s built up a sort-of tolerance to weed now, thanks to the unhealthy amount of weekends Jeremy has spent in Michael’s basement smoking and playing video games 24/7. The high is still a pleasant buzz though, tingling in his veins like static running its course, and his limbs feel more like floppy spaghetti than actual functioning parts of a human being.

Michael has relaxed too. The nervous edge he constantly seems to possess has seeped out of his system, leaving behind the Michael Jeremy thinks he might be in love with. While his character darts around with his best friend’s on screen, shooting zombies and whatnot, Jeremy is far too distracted by the way Michael tucks his head into his shoulder, thumbs controlling his respective console with ease.

He’s always been the clingy type. Jeremy dies for the fifth time.

“Dude, you’re harshing my fuckin’ mellow,” Michael complains after the screen repeatedly flashes ‘YOU DIED!’ on Jeremy’s side of the screen. Although he’d like to tease his friend about his odd vernacular, the words get stuck in his throat when Michael shuts his television off and stares at Jeremy. “Anything happened at school today?”

“What do you mean?” Jeremy replies vaguely. He knows what’ll happen next; their sequence of events has never broken, not now, not ever. First, Michael will roll his eyes and shove him lightly, telling him to ‘spit it out’ already. Then, Jeremy stays silent for a few moments, pondering the ramifications of telling him versus not telling him. He’ll open his fat mouth and carefully spill his guts out, while simultaneously managing to keep the more depressing parts of his day to himself. Michael notices, as he always does, and the pity in his crystalline eyes reflects that.

“So it’s just society being a dick again?” Michael asks once he figures out Jeremy is done talking. The slight hunch in Jeremy’s already horrid posture gives him the cue that that’s everything he’s gonna get out of his best friend for the day. 

“If Rich’s name is society, yeah.”

“It’ll be okay, man. Guys like us are cool in college, right?” Michael nudges him, easygoing smile back in place. Gone are the worried creases in his forehead and the noticeable tremor rattling his fingertips to the bone, and while Jeremy will forever think it’s beautiful, it just fills him with an ambiguously melancholic longing.

“Right.”


End file.
